


The Proposal

by theskywasblue



Series: Inception Domestic AU [15]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 10:52:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1425814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theskywasblue/pseuds/theskywasblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur spoils the surprise</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Proposal

“What is this?”

Eames looks up from his breakfast, makes a small, guilty noise, and immediately looks back down. “Where did you find that?”

Arthur puts the small, velvet-covered box down on the table. He hasn’t looked inside – mostly because the thought of doing so makes his blood run cold – but he’s not stupid; he knows what it means. “It fell out of your pocket when I picked your jeans up off the floor.”

Eames says, “Ah…” and then takes a big gulp of orange juice, as if that might change the fact that his face is bright red. “Well…now that you’ve spoiled the surprise, I don’t know what you want me to say.”

It’s 10:32 on a Saturday morning, and Arthur is really not prepared for any of this. If only he’d ignored the box, tucked it back in the pocket of Eames’ pants, pretended he’d never seen it. If only it had rolled away under the dresser instead of coming to rest right at his feet, like a landmine. If only he’d done anything but picked it up.

  
Arthur takes a deep breath, pulls out the empty chair, and sits down. It occurs to him, suddenly, almost painfully, that this is _his_ chair; the one across the table is Eames’. There is a side of the bed that belongs to Eames, a particular drawer, a section of the closet. They’ve been living together for eight months, and Arthur wonders how he never thought of it before.

“You were going to ask me to marry you,” he says. It comes out sounding a lot more accusatory than it probably should, but Arthur doesn’t think of that until it’s too late.

“I still am?” Eames says, though it sounds like a question. “Obviously you don’t have to say yes.”

“What makes you think I’m not going to say yes?”

Eames clears his throat, and gestures vaguely with his orange juice.

“I’m going to say yes,” Arthur says, firmly, though he hadn’t actually decided until that exact moment what his answer would be. He’s well-practised in hypothetical scenarios; he just never entertained this particular one before, because – well, because he’s an honestly intolerable person to be with sometimes. He works too hard, too long, and too personally; he snaps like an angry dog when he’s tired or stressed; he gets picky and bent out of shape about all the wrong things.

But now – now that he’s thought of it, now that it’s a possibility, he wants it.

Arthur could walk through the apartment and pick out the things that are Eames’, the things that are his, but the truth is, it’s all  _theirs_ , and he likes it that way.

Eames is quiet for a moment before he flashes Arthur the smallest of smiles. “That’s very comforting.”

Arthur is silent, chewing the inside of his lower lip for what feels like a year. Eames picks at his breakfast with his fork and doesn’t say anything.

“Well?” Arthur prompts at last, drumming his fingertips on the table. “Just ask already.”

Eames laughs. “I had something rather more romantic planned the occasion.”

“I might change my mind before then.” The truth is, Arthur thinks that he might lose his nerve, which is something entirely different.

Eames reaches across the table, scooping the little box into his hand as smoothly as pickpocket. “I’d better snap you up while I have the chance then, shall I?”

Arthur presses his palms to the tabletop because he thinks they might be shaking. He watches Eames flip open the top of the box, and pull out a simple, silver band, rolling it across his knuckles and back, like he does with the novelty poker chip he carries around in his pocket for good luck. Then, he holds it out to Arthur, between his thumb and forefinger, his smile huge, but nervous around the edges.

“Well, darling – what do you say? Marry me?”

Arthur snatches the ring out of his hand and leans across the table to kiss him. “Of course I will, damn it.”

-End-


End file.
